Pretty in Pink
Title: Pretty In Pink
Author: merigirl
Characters: Dean
Rating: PG-13 (mild swearing, manpain)
Summary (Season Four): nothing spoilery,
Disclaimer: Kripke owns Dean not me I just like to dream
Author's Notes: For my own amusment, I probably should have been writting something better with more angst and man pain, I should have finished writing that fairy tale I keep abandoning.. I should have done alot of things instead I wrote this.
word count: 300 word drabble
“Don’t forget the pie !” Dean growled behind the closed bathroom door. He turned the shower on and listened to the pipes groan and protest before water appeared. Dean grimaced at the flamingo emblazoned shower screen and stepped into the fall of hot water. He fumbled with the small pink bottle of rose scented shower gel, pouring it into his hand he rubbed the soap over the perfect skin of his chest and belly. No claw marks from that psycho bitch in Tulsa, the puckered bullet scar on his shoulder when he was 17 hunting that fucking leech in Denver, the scar on his hip from that asshole demon in Reno.
Each scar, a story, a mark on the road map that was Dean’s life, who he was and where he had been. All of them washed away like that cascade of rose scented bubbles dripping down his perfect, perfect skin. Dean closed his eyes, the memory of being torn out of hell burned through him. Dean grimaced and splayed his hand against the cold pink and black tiled wall. Soapy fingers rubbing against the handprint on his shoulder. and salty tears spilled from dark lashes, mingling with the steaming water and rose scented soap. Salty tears spilled from dark lashes, mingling with the steaming water and rose scented soap. “Fuck!” Dean swore, shaking his head violently as he punched a pale pink flamingo tile. The tile shattered and sliced into his hand, bright red drops of blood swirling with rose bubbles down the drain.
Dean threw back the shower curtain and stepped onto the pink rug, he wrapped a pink towel around his waist, and glared at his reflection in the heart shaped mirror. The door slammed and Dean poked his head out the bathroom. “You get the pie?”
Author: merigirl
Characters: Dean
Rating: PG-13 (mild swearing, manpain)
Summary (Season Four): nothing spoilery,
Disclaimer: Kripke owns Dean not me I just like to dream
Author's Notes: For my own amusment, I probably should have been writting something better with more angst and man pain, I should have finished writing that fairy tale I keep abandoning.. I should have done alot of things instead I wrote this.
word count: 300 word drabble
“Don’t forget the pie !” Dean growled behind the closed bathroom door. He turned the shower on and listened to the pipes groan and protest before water appeared. Dean grimaced at the flamingo emblazoned shower screen and stepped into the fall of hot water. He fumbled with the small pink bottle of rose scented shower gel, pouring it into his hand he rubbed the soap over the perfect skin of his chest and belly. No claw marks from that psycho bitch in Tulsa, the puckered bullet scar on his shoulder when he was 17 hunting that fucking leech in Denver, the scar on his hip from that asshole demon in Reno.
Each scar, a story, a mark on the road map that was Dean’s life, who he was and where he had been. All of them washed away like that cascade of rose scented bubbles dripping down his perfect, perfect skin. Dean closed his eyes, the memory of being torn out of hell burned through him. Dean grimaced and splayed his hand against the cold pink and black tiled wall. Soapy fingers rubbing against the handprint on his shoulder. and salty tears spilled from dark lashes, mingling with the steaming water and rose scented soap. Salty tears spilled from dark lashes, mingling with the steaming water and rose scented soap. “Fuck!” Dean swore, shaking his head violently as he punched a pale pink flamingo tile. The tile shattered and sliced into his hand, bright red drops of blood swirling with rose bubbles down the drain.
Dean threw back the shower curtain and stepped onto the pink rug, he wrapped a pink towel around his waist, and glared at his reflection in the heart shaped mirror. The door slammed and Dean poked his head out the bathroom. “You get the pie?”